company in east india - part VI

With the usual omelet and toast breakfast I left the house around 8:45, I needed to be at the Howrah station by 9:30 and was running slightly late. The sight of the bridge took me back seven years when I had come to this city for the first time, with Atul and Arghya. We had taken a passenger train from Jamshedpur and arrived here at Howrah. It was unchanged; the same ‘Photography prohibited’ signs were still around (the reason for which still eludes me). Reached the station and bought the tickets to Bolpur (that’s what the Shantiniketan station is called), bought a copy of ‘The Statesman’ and found a place to sit, S arrived shortly. The Howrah railway station can be supremely intimidating and with the waves of passengers sweeping the station in their stride; finding swift and reliable cover is essential. Had a chai in a kullhad and waited for our train to arrive. It was nice to see a group of foreign tourists also waiting for the train; one enthusiast was busy filming anything which moved and watching him was quite uplifting. The train was on time and there were enough seats available in the AC chair car for us to get reservations on the spot.

The world looks so perfect through the tinted glasses of air conditioned spaces – the East Indian countryside looked magnificent. Between the newspaper, the i-pod and the conversation the journey passed by. The only regret was that jahlmoodhi walas were not allowed inside the AC compartment and the lone ranger who managed to make a brief appearance fell short of time serving the passengers up ahead.

A crowd of rickshaw walas was waiting as we emerged from the Bolpur railway station. We hired Prabhat who agreed to take us to Shantiniketan which is a little further from the station (I withdrew some money from the solitary ATM; the Lonely Planet had advised that most guest houses here did not accept cards). We had short listed Chutti Lodge based on LP’s recommendation but Prabhat insisted that we see another guest house first (I do not recall the name) and we obliged, only to turn it down without a second thought. With much reluctance he trudged along to Chutti which was exactly in lines with LP’s review. We tried negotiating (had managed a 10% discount in Shillong and were quite kicked about negotiating) but it didn’t work here, partly because the rates were reasonable to begin with and we were way too satisfied with what was on offer (paid for a non AC room with the assurance that incase conditioning the air was required we would be allowed to shift rooms and adjust the tabs). Kept our bags, freshened up and left.

Prabhat was waiting for us and we asked him to show us around Shantiniketan and to begin with take us some nice place for lunch (he demanded ‘chaar paanch sau rupiye’ and had to be informed that we were not ‘firangi tourists’). He took us to Khaarimaati which served traditional Bengali fare. It was a very nicely made place, there was outdoor seating with individual spread out booths (lined neatly in two rows), there was a canopy to keep the sun out and lots of greenery all around. The waiter was quite a character who did not hesitate to make suggestions/additions. We promptly got the masala colas and papad’s, the main course however refused to turn up and as the university shuts down at 4 we were in a bit of a rush; today was all we had. After a great deal ‘anti tada tadi’ the waiter appeared with S’s order; a thaali in which everything was stone cold (S was later to reveal that even tough cold, the bite that she had eaten was quite splendid in taste, also we were extremely hungry). We returned that and asked it to be heated and resumed the wait. After another terribly long 10 minutes I walked up to the guy at the counter and asked him to speed things up as we were quite short of time. Nothing much came from this except a cursory assurance; back at the table the vigil resumed and midway something just snapped and we got up and asked that the order be cancelled. This caused quite a bit of commotion with all the waiters crowding in, none of us lost our tempers but were very curt in explaining our disgust. When one of the waiters cheekily retorted that we needed to pay for the food now that it was being prepared, S suddenly snapped and said “if you are here only for the money, we will most certainly pay!” It was quite a shock to them and before they could recover we had paid for the colas (the cashier was sensible enough to not charge us for the food) and marched out. Prabhat was there and the journey around the great university township started on an empty stomach. He took us on an amusing rickshaw guided tour, explaining minute nuances in great detail especially the kaali badi (which we later read in the next days papers had just recently been repainted) and the many sculptures present there (he had a perspective on each one of those).

The next stop was the museum; Tagore’s house had been converted into his museum – they had trapped him and in turn the city into an abyss beyond time. S was first to point this out and I saw a lot of merit in it, everything about that place was so centric to one personality that his message was utterly lost (Sabarmati Ashram in comparison is far more refreshing and uplifting). We managed to get a view of his Nobel award and other fascinating memorabilia; the constant removing of shoes as a symbol of reverence was annoying and quite senseless. Had a glimpse of Tagore’s drawing room, and I sensed a lot of energy still reverberating what times those must have been; what mehfils this room must have witnessed! Then went around the older part of the house, and the special hutment that had been prepared for the Mahatma’s visit to the university town.

Once out of there Prabhat took us through some other parts of the university where the famous ‘under the tree’ classes are conducted. We were quite famished by now and stopped to buy some minute maid and chatram patram. Came across a puchka seller and S got some churmur made (Prabhat had shown his utter lack of road-side cuisine when asked if that puchka seller would make churmur, his confused/lost expression is vivid in my memory; “why don’t you ask him only?” he had said in all politeness, “how do I know what it is that you want!”) which tasted heavenly and we moved on. Passing by the college canteen I had an urge to go in and have chai, so we halted but the canteen was deserted and the three of us had chai in silence and moved, it was then that the silence of that campus struck us. Were relived to run into a bunch of kids playing around, discovering the joy of the automobile (a scooty to be specific) it was approaching dusk and after inquiring with a couple of auto chaps about the fare they would charge to take us to a place slightly far from the city for dinner Prabhat dropped us at the guest house.

The dinner could not happen as per plan, that place was shut down and operates only when the tourist season in at its peak. So based on Prabhat’s recommendation we decided to visit Ghairey Bairey and were not disappointed at all; all said and done Prabhat knew this town and our tastes quite well (on the way we saw jugnoos and were thrilled, called Ankit to give him the good news). Ordered some nice fish, paneer chops dal and rice along with a cola float. Strolled around the adjoining exhibition but did not feel compelled to buy anything and returned; the service was prompt and the food tasty. Took a rickshaw back and stopped for some water and pan on the way, got a tad more choona than needed and initiated a volley of hiccups for S. Once back we settled our account, had to leave the next morning (it was fun to see the receptionist ponder over my address in the form, shant‘h’iniketan apartments!! She could comprehend that ‘h’ and tossed it out). Slept.